


Stars

by twigglettz



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Looking back on Scott's life, M/M, Reyder, Reyes is a perfect little shit, Rydal - Freeform, Scott and Sara as baby twins are adorable, Slow Burn, fight me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 09:10:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10553774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twigglettz/pseuds/twigglettz
Summary: He was born amongst the stars, grew up surrounded by countless specks of light, grounded only by artificial gravity and his father's expectations, so when he realised he was being sent back into space, Scott could barely contain his happiness.





	

Scott had always looked up at the stars. As a kid, he'd sneak out of his family's quarters at night, footsteps muffled by his father's snoring, just to catch a glimpse when the Citadel's lights were dimmed. Sometimes Sara would join him, and they'd pick a speck in the void and make up stories about the species and planets orbiting it. She'd curl up into his side with a yawn, sketchbook in hand, and he would talk while she drew. The possibilities were endless, and all Scott wanted to do was grow and grow and grow until he was big enough to go to every single one.

He was stationed on Earth once for almost a year, back when he first joined the Alliance. The gravity was a little lighter and the days felt way too short, and he couldn't help thinking he'd gone backwards. Most people started on a planet and left for the stars, and here he was doing just the opposite. 

Security was lax in the compound and on the nights he couldn't sleep, he'd go to the roof with a bottle of Turian brandy and stare out into space. It seemed darker on Earth, further away. There were no nebulae or galaxies he could see, no huge expanse of colour and light, and that had bothered him to no end. Sara was still back on the Citadel, and he missed the scratching of her pencil in his ear and the playful bickering when they disagreed on a name for their aliens. So instead, he'd trace the constellations with his fingertips, would watch them move with the seasons until they faded into dawn and counted down the days until his next assignment was due. 

He was born amongst the stars, grew up surrounded by countless specks of light, grounded only by artificial gravity and his father's expectations, so when he realised he was being sent back into space, Scott could barely contain his happiness. He couldn't wait for the vibration of metal below his boots again, the soft hum of the air filters at night, the taste of recycled water that you _knew_ was clean, not that shit on Earth that had come out of the ground. 

His first night back on the Citadel, he'd gone out as soon as the light had dimmed. He squeezed himself though the vent at the back of the corridor where his family's quarters had been years before, and crawled through. After two lefts and a right, he dropped through the grate to the makeshift steps of boxes and crates and into the familiarity of their room. _Their_ room. The door had become jammed long before they'd discovered it, and it was small enough that it didn't even show up on the schematics, so Scott and Sara covered the floors in blankets and the walls in drawings and claimed it as their own. It was basically a broom closet, bland and a little dusty, but it faced the outside of the station, with windows stretching from the floor to the ceiling. It was a little cramped now he'd grown up, and he was pretty sure his neck would be sore for the next few days, but he settled down anyway. For the first time in a year, he didn't have any problems falling asleep.

His excitement about his new post didn't last long. He was guarding the Arcturus system, the mass effect relay that connected directly to the Milky Way's. He'd spend all day watching ships come and go, stopping one every now and then for inspection or quarantine, so close to the other relays that he could almost reach out and touch them. The whole galaxy was literally at his feet, hundreds of thousands of possibilities spread out in front of him, millions of places he could go to. But no. He was stuck asking transport pods where the third crate of Asari wine had disappeared to. Sara would vid call him often enough, gushing about some rock or plant or something, telling him about the soil on Tuchanka or the structures on blah blah blah. She got to move around so often, there was always new information for her to share. Sometimes he wished he'd have been born as smart as her, had had her brains and their late mother's scientific flair. Even his father had been experimenting with computers recently, and Scott was pretty sure he was born a soldier, gun and all. They all got to see so much of the galaxy, and the only place he'd ever gone was Earth. But at least he was in the stars, he'd remind himself. How much worse could it get?

Turns out, a lot worse. His father had been dishonourably discharged for building a fucking AI, and due to Scott's strategic posting and Sara's research needing high level clearance, they'd both been asked to resign. He'd been around the military long enough to know that it wasn't a request at all, so he had dutifully packed his things, took one last look at the storms raging on Eirene through the magnification function on his omni-tool and got on the next shuttle back to the Citadel. 

He spent weeks cooped up in his and Sara's room, wallowing in self pity and letting the cold of the vacuum outside seep through his palms when he pressed them up against the window. He desperately wished the stars surrounding the station were closer, wished that he could feel their heat against his face, wished he could step out the airlock and freefall into their gravity. It was only after Sara had joined him, excitement twinkling in her eyes, and babbling about the Andromeda Initiative that he started to perk up again. He signed up immediately, almost misspelling his own name when he typed it into his omni-tool, and they spent the next few hours arguing over whose boots would hit the ground first.

The night before the arks were to be launched, he set his omni-tool to record whilst he slept. He wanted to remember the stars he grew up with, the stars he'd fallen in love with. He realised with a pang of regret that he may never see them again. Sure, there would be new ones, new constellations, new planets, new everything, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was breaking a promise. As an afterthought, he tucked one of Sara's drawings into his bag. They'd cleaned out the room a few days before, and even though Sara had thrown out most things, he'd managed to save one. It was a terrible little crayon scribble, if he was being honest, with all the wrong colours and wobbly lines, but it was his absolute favourite. It was their family, their mother included, making contact with the “Snurlians” on “Snurla IV”, holding hands and exchanging gifts and when he closed his eyes to go to sleep, it was all he could dream about. 

When he woke up on the ark, he didn't have any time to think. Lights were flashing and sirens were blaring and his military training kicked in. There were problems, so many fucking problems, and he had to fix them. Pulling on his armour and loading his gun was so normal to him, and cramming into the shuttles waiting for a debrief was something he could do with his eyes closed. The explosion, however, was something entirely new.

It took him a second to get his bearings, blinking up at the grey above him. There was a lazy throbbing in his head and he couldn't feel the outer three fingers on his right hand, but he was fairly certain he was still alive and in one piece. Liam was hauling him up, laughing despite their circumstances, and once Scott was up on his feet again, the realisation of exactly where they were hit him like a sniper shell to the chest. Habitat 7. Andromeda. And it was beautiful. He clapped Liam on the back and laughed along with him, a little breathless and giddy, and radioed his father for an update.

Becoming the pathfinder was as sudden as it was difficult, and Scott felt like the single most unqualified person in the whole galaxy. Maybe even two galaxies. The fate of so many people were on his shoulders, a man whose only real talent was daydreaming, and he felt like he'd drown in the responsibility. But then he was given a ship, a crew, and told in no uncertain terms to _find us a home_. He tried to suppress his excitement with a cough that sounded far too faked for his liking. That, he could do. 

Each system they visited, Scott would insist that they scanned every planet, every moon, and he was pretty sure Kallo and Suvi thought there was something wrong with him, but he pointedly ignored their looks. Even if they weren't habitable, he just needed to see them, to reach out to them. Every single one was beautiful; sun scorched volcanoes, frozen icy tundras, molten metal expanses. He was standing between the stars Sara had drawn as a kid and he never thought he'd see anything more perfect. 

It took all of four days to prove himself wrong.

He'd had a bad feeling about Kadara when Kallo brought them into orbit. Sulphur pools and exiles were not a mix he'd ever wanted to go near, but he had a job to do and the sooner they got it done, the better. They were meeting a contact, trying to get intel on the Moshae, and as soon as he saw him, Scott knew in an instant that he was fucked. 

"You look like you're waiting for someone." Oh. He swallowed hard, hoping that when he found his voice it would come out steady, that it wouldn't betray the racing of his heart. Sara had always worn her feelings on her sleeve, had showed off her boyfriends like diamonds at an auction, showering them in praise and affection for all the world to see. Scott had never been good at any of that, had felt awkward and weird around emotions he couldn't describe. He blamed his father. He suddenly wished Sara was here, curled up at his side, so he could talk and talk and talk and she could draw him up a solution, could put a name to whatever the feeling in his stomach was. But she wasn't, and when the guy offered him a drink, the only thing he could allow himself to focus on was the job. 

Reyes's eyes were the same colour as the brandy he'd drunk on Earth, and they burned just as deep, and Scott had wondered what it would be like to trace his fingers across his skin instead of the sky. Map every scar and freckle, muscles moving under the expanse of flesh, real and tangible and something so much better than just watching. He found himself making excuses to go back to Kadara as often as he thought he could get away with, giving his crewmates feeble excuses about going to buy new gear or talk to a contact, and then promptly making a beeline straight for the slums. He knew subtlety wasn't exactly his forte, but it wasn't Reyes's either, with the never ending innuendos and the eyebrow quirks and the purr of his accent when Scott flirted back. It was fun. More than fun. It was playful and silly and after years of taking orders off his dad and the Alliance and the pressure of being a pathfinder, spending time with Reyes was as easy as spending time staring out into space. He couldn't touch, not yet, but he was in arm's reach. The possibilities made him breathless. 

When they first kissed, suddenly and impulsively, surrounded by crates and boxes that reminded Scott of the stairs to his room on the Citadel, he swore he saw stars. The pin pricks of heat that surged up his spine contrasted with the coolness of Reyes's lips, soft and pliant against his own, and the contact made the air in his lungs sting more than the atmosphere on Habitat 7. When they pulled away, he felt more defenceless than he'd ever felt in his life, raw and uncertain and so painfully dizzy. Reyes had grabbed his hand, fingers intertwining, and dragged him away with promises of whiskey and space to themselves. His legs had moved long before his brain had caught up, and he was pretty sure that he couldn't have resisted even if he'd wanted to. 

They'd ended up on a roof, staring over Kadara Port, and Scott could barely take his gaze off the sunset reflecting in Reyes's eyes. The whole thing felt strangely familiar, like a dream he couldn't quite remember, and the unusual stillness of the town below them brought a sense of calm over him. The whiskey probably wasn't helping. His fingers were restless against the bottle between his palms, and when he handed it back, the raw emotion on Reyes's face made his chest heave and his stomach clench. The man was perfect, all tanned skin and bravado, and they'd been playing this stupid game for so long, it had left Scott aching for him. He leaned over, pressing his lips to Reyes's again, fingers carding through his immaculately gelled hair, pulling him so close their chests bumped. It was an awkward position and when they pulled away, they both laughed, breathless and a little drunk, and without a word being said, Reyes dragged him to his feet and towards the lift for the slums. 

They lay in Reyes's bed after, and out of habit, Scott turned his head to the window to look at the stars. He realised after a few seconds that they'd changed, that somewhere between leaving Earth and right then, they'd become distant. Cold. He could go anywhere in an unexplored galaxy, be the first person ever to set foot on countless planets, see things even his imagination couldn't have conjured up. But for the first time in his life, he was perfectly content where he was. Turning his back on the window, he curled up against Reyes's side, head resting on his shoulder, and let the slow rise and fall of his lover's chest lure him to sleep. The stars would still be there in the morning, but more importantly, Scott thought, so would Reyes.


End file.
